


how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

by JamieJam (BlackWidowRising)



Series: Trans!Brock [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Minnesota with Petey, Team as Family, Trans Brock, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWidowRising/pseuds/JamieJam
Summary: Brock invites Petey to Minnesota, he finally comes after the bubble.
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson
Series: Trans!Brock [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162814
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Into The Woods Hockey RPF Cabin Fic Fest





	how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [JamieJam (BlackWidowRising)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWidowRising/pseuds/JamieJam) in the [hrpfIntothewoods](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/hrpfIntothewoods) collection. 



> This is technically a sequel to "i want to watch the universe expand" but you don't need to have read it in advance. All section titles are from Sleeping at Last's "Saturn" specifically the Tim Fain version.

**_1\. How life carries on endlessly even after death_ **

The Canucks drag their series against the Golden Knights to seven games but it’s not enough. Brock’s not enough. He can already hear the whispers of trade rumours around his ears as he packs his bags before leaving the bubble. 

“Maybe,” a little voice in his head says, “maybe you should have never come out to your teammates. Maybe if you hadn’t told them you wouldn’t have distracted them from hockey.”

Brock hates that little voice with a burning passion but he can’t help but admit that maybe it is right. Maybe he shouldn’t have come out no matter how much easier it made it for him to play hockey.

Getting on the plane back to Vancouver feels like the beginning of the end, Tanny and Marky are both free agents and neither of them have a contract. Stretch and Tuna are both RFAs and it makes Brock think about his own cap hit. About his training camp holdout, about his slipping goal totals and continuing injuries. It makes Brock think about whether or not he’s cut out for professional hockey. Whether his body will let him keep the only thing he has ever wanted or steal that from him too.

“Come to Minnesota with me,” Brock asks Petey with a smile. He wants this. He wants this boy with the biting sarcasm and white blond hair and hockey that’s so beautiful it makes him want to scream.

Petey smiles back at him, “I think i’m going to stick around in Vancouver for a bit and then maybe i’ll head out to see that lake of yours.

Brock just beams at him in response before bounding off to find Stetch and bug him. 

He hugs Stetch, messes with Quinn, and then goes to sit with Tanny who ruffles his hair. Brock gets to hang out a bit in the Vancouver airport between getting back and getting on the plane to Minnesota. He’s tempted to get a pack of candy but it’s Vancouver, the last thing he needs is someone snapping a photo and reigniting the rampant trade talk that always seems to surround his name. 

For once getting on the plane back to Minnesota seems to hurt a little less than usual, maybe it’s the fact that he trusts his team. Maybe it’s because everything and everyone has somehow become closer and farther away. 

**_2\. With shortness of breath you explained the infinite_ **

Petey arrives on a rainy morning in October. He doesn’t tell Brock that he’s coming, just rings the doorbell one morning and Brock pads half asleep down the hallway to answer it.

“What are you-” Brock yawns. “What are you doing here?”

“You asked me to come to Minnesota,” Petey responds like it explains everything. “Can I come in?” 

It’s wet and cold outside but somehow Brock’s Minnesota Nice programming kicks his half awake body into gear and he autopilot invites Petey into the house and takes his bag from him. 

“You hungry?” Brock asks after Petey sheds his shoes and jacket.

“You cook?” Petey shoots back.

And look, Brock is mildly offended because he can cook. He doesn’t cook often because he realised pretty early on that the more time he spent in the kitchen the more time he’d get called a “nice young lady” who would be “such a catch” when he was older. But breakfast food, breakfast food is a thing he can do. Petey goes upstairs to get out of his wet clothes and Brock gets cracking on what are going to be the best damn pancakes Petey has ever eaten.

By the time Petey comes back downstairs Brock has plated two sets of pancakes and put the leftovers in a Tupperware for tomorrow. 

Petey stares at the pancakes, “when did you have time to order these,” he finally says after a minute. 

“Fuck you,” Brock responds cheerfully.

“I’m taking a picture and texting this to the rest of the boys,” Petey says, sniffing imperiously before dragging a plate over and pouring syrup on top.

Brock just laughs in response and waits for the pancakes to work their magic. Petey’s poker face is impressive, Brock will give him that, but they’ve been friends for years so Brock notices the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth and waggling of his eyebrow. He smiles.

“These are-,” Petey says as he mops up the last of the maple syrup from his plate. “These are good. Did you learn to cook during the pause?”

Brock raises an eyebrow in response, “You think I could learn to make pancakes that masterful in a few months? My mom taught me to make them when I was a kid.”

It’s an opening for Petey to ask more if he wants. Brock doesn’t talk about his childhood in detail because there are too many other things tied up in it, especially before he was out. 

Petey doesn’t take the opening, just hums an affirmative before asking, “What’s up with this lake of yours?”

“What, finally going to see the light and admit that my lake is better,” Brock snarks back.

“Fat chance,” Petey shoots back.

They head outside to stand on the deck, Coolie and Milo nipping at their heels. The rain has cleared up some, going from terrifying downpour to friendly drizzle with the sun starting to peek out from behind the clouds. The lake is gray but the steady pitter patter of raindrops is almost enough to mask the emptiness of his backyard.

Petey huffs a little. “Not very impressive.”

“It looks better when it’s sunny and in the winter it freezes over,” Brock responds. 

Petey hums and they stand outside for a minute until the cold starts to deep into Brock’s bones and he nudges Petey who nudges back before turning back into the house. 

Having Petey in the house is almost like what they had before the growing gulf between the two of them began to consume their relationship. Since Petey won the Calder. Since he vowed in a press conference to drive to Minnesota and drag Brock back himself. Brock doesn’t know what caused it, doesn’t know if Petey found out that he’s in love with him and has pulled away because of it. But Petey came to Minnesota. He’s here, in the lake house, sitting on his living room floor as Milo climbs all over him. It’s almost like the start of something new, the start of something better. 

**_3\. You taught me the courage of stars before you left_ **

Stetch calls him a week before the Canucks are supposed to qualify all their RFA’s.

“I’m not getting an offer,” he says in lieu of a greeting. 

It jars Brock and his hands stutter to a stop, his brain skipping tracks, trying to connect dots. “What do you mean you’re not getting a qualifying offer?”

“The Canucks declined to give me a qualifying offer. I’m going straight to free agency.”

“And they’ll pick you up then right?” Brock asks, heart stuttering. Stetch is his best friend, he doesn’t know how to get by in Vancouver without him. He doesn’t know how Vancouver will get by without Troy from Richmond.

Stretch is quiet for a moment, “I don’t think they will Brock.” He takes a deep breath. “They’re cap screwed and it's easier to shed from the bottom than the top. They’ve got to sign Petey and Huggy next summer anyway.”

Brock can feel tears start to prick at the corner of his eyes. He bites his lip. “Come to Minnesota,” he whispers, voice fearful and broken, high in a way he normally doesn’t let it be. Fragile in a way he normally tries to avoid. 

“I’ll see if I can,” Stetch replies. “It all depends on who signs me. If it’s a team in the States I’ll probably try and swing by yours with Phoebe if it’s not too far out my way. How’s your dad?”

“He’s doing pretty well,” Brock responds as he absently returns to drying dishes. “Mostly he’s just been complaining about being stuck inside.”

Stetch laughs a little. “Sounds like him.”

Brock lowers his voice a little, “Petey’s here.” He bends over, as though he can whisper into Stetch’s ear over the phone.

“Whaaa-” Stretch exclaims.

“I know, I know. He just kind of showed up on my doorstep like two weeks ago.”

“Do you know why he came?”

“He said it’s because I asked. But Stetch, that doesn’t make any sense, i’ve been asking for years.”

Brock can hear Stetch shrug on the other end of the phone, “I don’t know either Brock. It sounds kind of like a big, grand, romantic gesture.”

Brock screws up his face a little, “but why now? Why only after I came out? Is it because he thinks of me as a woman now?”

Stetch sucks in a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe he just didn’t realise you were gay before and now that he’s found out he’s trying to shoot his shot.”

Brock hums in response, still skeptical but willing to hold on to a shred of hope. “Stop by in Minnie when you drive down ‘kay?”

“I will, I will,” Stetch replies. “I’ll bring Phoebe with me and she can have a doggy date with Coolie and Milo.”

At the start of free agency Marky leaves for Calgary. It’s not unexpected, he wants a no movement clause and the Canucks were never going to give him one. Petey is sad and kind of mopey afterwards because Marky was like an older brother to him but it’s a little more than that. It’s the knowledge that somehow, this is your fault because of your impending cap hit, because of one of your friend’s performances, because you dared to be good enough to make someone expendable. Marky’s exit hits Brock and Petey hard but not as hard as Tanny signing with Calgary as well.

Tanny is his dad. Not really, but Tanny is the first person on the team he came out to. Tanny is the one who would sit with him through dysphoric episodes, who would invite him to dinner to sit at a table to feel loved. To let the warmth of the food and the conversation and the love, the overwhelming love, settle in his belly and spread throughout his body. Brock cries. He does it in the bathroom though so that Petey doesn’t see, so that Petey won’t look at him and think “girl, girl, girl.” He gives himself ten minutes before he splashes water on his face, straightens his back, and heads down to the kitchen where he left his phone so he can call Tanny. Petey looks at him with sad eyes and Brock hates it, hates the soft pitying look that fills his face. Brock gets his phone and then walks out back to the porch, it’s been getting colder but he doesn’t grab a coat, just wraps the throw blanket from the swing and wraps himself up in it. His finger hovers over Tanny’s name before pressing it, Tanny picks up on the first ring, Brock just sniffles into the receiver. 

“Brock,” Tanny’s voice is soft. “Brock, you’ll be ok.”

Brock keeps sniffling softly, his eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“You have the team,” Tanny says after a pause. “They care about you. They love you. They know you. You. Will. Be. Ok.”

“Yeah but-”

Tanny interrupts him. “I can’t pretend to know what you’re worried about, i’m not you. But I know that Eagle and Bo are doing a ton of reading. I know that Huggy and Bo reached out to ask how to check in with you. I know that Petey is in Minnesota with you and that he probably cares more about you than you know. Brock, you will be ok. The team will take care of you. And anyway, it’s not like i’m leaving the country, you can still come for dinner after the Calgary games.”

Stretch signs with Detroit a week later.

“See you in a couple :)” Stetch texts when the signing goes through.

The next day the Canucks sign Braden Holtby to a two year contract. Bo texts him after the news breaks, “do you want to tell Holtby anything?”

“Not sure yet,” Brock texts back. “I want to gauge the vibe first.”

“Cool, lmk if you need anything.”   


“Will do.”

“Hey,” Petey says as Brock puts down his phone. “You good?”

Brock smiles softly at Petey “Kind of, Bo wanted to know if/when I wanted to tell Holtby.”

Petey hums, “Why did you tell us?”

“What?”

“Why did you tell the team this summer? What was the point?”

“What do you mean?”

“You looked so uncomfortable up there at the front of the room. You looked like you would rather be anywhere but there. Why did you tell us?”   


“Because I needed to,” Brock replies. “It’s hard, carrying that sort of thing by yourself. Having to deal with dysphoria and hormones and a bunch of other things. It’s lonely and it sucks hiding such a giant part of yourself. I don’t think I’m ever going to be out, out y’know? But I don’t want it to be a secret on the team anymore. It was too much for me to carry by myself.” Brock trails off and turns to look at Petey who has his thinking face on.

“Isn’t coming out something you’re supposed to want to do though? It doesn’t sound like you wanted to do it.”   


Brock huffs out a laugh, “you guys are my coworkers, my family. Of course I was nervous telling you. Coming out is hard, especially to people you care about and care about you.”

Petey nods like he understands which, as far as Brock knows, he doesn’t and goes farther into the kitchen, taking down the mug that has somehow become his in the weeks he’s been here. He starts a pot of the Swedish coffee mix that appeared in Brock’s kitchen a week and a half after Petey had shown up on his doorstep and they move in comfortable silence as Brock pulls out leftovers for dinner. 

“Chicken or fish” Brock asks, breaking the silence. 

Petey hums for a moment, thoughtful. “We had the fish last night, let’s do the chicken today.”

Brock nods and puts the fish back into the fridge. “My mom wants to know if you’ll be around for Thanksgiving.”

“Huh?”

“Thanksgiving,” Brock says again. “My mom wants to know whether or not to set out a plate for you.”

“Oh,” Petey sounds startled. “So soon?”

Brock laughs a little, “Boeser family Thanksgiving’s are legendary, be prepared to be plied with off diet plan food and be unable to say no.”

“Tell your mom i’ll be there.”

“You sure? That’s in November. You aren’t going to head back to Sweden and see your family for a bit.”

“They were,” Petey pauses for a moment. “Less than enthused that I chose to leave Canada and come here. The last thing they want is for me to step onto another plane. We’ve been skyping and calling though.”

“Oh,” Brock says softly. “You know you can do that in the living room right? I know the bedrooms have kind of crap wifi.”

Petey shrugs and then smirks, “gives me an excuse to cut the call short.”

“You’re horrible.”

Petey flips him off before sticking a plate of food into the microwave, gently hip checking Brock as he walks past. His heart climbs up to his throat and for a moment he lets himself imagine a future with Petey. Lets himself imagine a million more domestic dinners, a thousand little hip checks, and a hundred gently teasing chirps. For a moment Brock lets himself live in a what if but he shuts that train of thought down almost as soon as it’s begun. There’s no use dreaming about the impossible, no use hoping for a future that can never exist. They eat dinner together, pressed close together on the couch as they watch a movie, curled up onto each other as it gets colder. Brock almost wishes he didn’t invite Petey to Minnesota, almost wishes that he’d invited any other teammate but the one he’s been in love with for ages. And that’s the problem, if it was just a crush Brock could and would get over it, but Petey has made Brock fall so deeply in love with him that there is no turning back, no digging himself out of the hole he managed to dig himself into. But Brock leans into Petey anyway, puts his head on Petey’s chest and lets long fingers softly card through his hair. If Brock closes his eyes, he can almost imagine a future, this future, so he doesn’t.

**_4\. I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time that the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes_ **

Thanksgiving is weird. Not just because they’re holding it in the backyard of his parents house and everybody is wearing a mask but because Petey’s there. His mom and sister keep giving him significant looks over their plates of food and Brock wants to scream, they aren’t like this when Stetch comes to visit, why is it any different when it’s Petey. But it’s Petey so of course it’s different. It’s Petey and according to Bo, Brock’s crush on him can be seen from space, according to Tanny he’s so in love with him that there’s no hiding it from anyone.

His sister corners him first by the dessert table, she gives him a Look, “you seriously invited him to Minnesota?”

“He’s my friend,” Brock protests weakly.

“I don’t look at any of my friends like that,” Jess snarks back. “You’re going to break your own heart if you don’t tell him how you feel.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, poking in between her ribs. It’s not very effective because it’s November and it’s cold so she’s wearing a coat.

Her eyes widen, “you don’t know do you?” she sing songs. “You really don’t know, do you? Jesus, Brock, he’s just as in love as you are, he’s just better at hiding it. Why else would he go to fucking Minnesota in the middle of winter during the offseason? It’s Minnesota Brock! No one goes to Minnesota.”

Brock manages to escape with his plate of very off diet plan bread pudding and Petey’s plate of fruit salad and quick walks across the lawn trying very, very hard to avoid any more nosy family members. Petey smiles at him as he hands over his plate of fruit before stuffing his face with bread pudding.

“What’s that,” Petey asks, gesturing at Brock’s plate as he daintily eats his fruit salad.

“Bread pudding,” Brock answers in between bites. “Want some?” Brock holds out his fork with bread pudding on it and pointedly ignores the Look he can feel his sister giving him.

Petey takes a bite and blinks a few times, “it’s very sweet,” he says after a minute and Brock laughs.

“There are chocolate chips in it too.”

Petey looks mildly horrified, “you are really not following your diet plan.”

“I get a little more leeway than you guys do because I have trouble building muscle mass. Anyway, it’s Thanksgiving, what is Thanksgiving but gorging on food you would never regularly eat?”

Petey nods a little and then takes a sip of water before going back to daintily eating his fruit salad.

His mom corners him as he’s helping wash dishes in the kitchen, “It’s so nice that you finally brought Elias to visit.” She doesn’t pronounce it the Swedish way, with elongated vowels and soft consonants.

“Huh?”   


“He’s a very nice boy,” she continues.

“He is,” Brock replies cautiously, not sure what his mom is getting at.

“How was he this summer?”

And now, now Brock knows exactly what his mom is trying to insinuate, “It’s not like that Mom,” he replies.

“Really,” she raises an eyebrow. “That boy is head over heels for you. Remember the All Star Game?”

Brock does remember the 2019 All Star Game. He remembers Petey donating money to Parkinson’s charities, he remembers calling him after and Petey being so glib about it, so ready to move on from it. That’s the moment that Brock knew he was totally and completely gone on Petey and that he might as well resign himself to being forever in love with his unavailable centre. 

He doesn’t answer his mom but she trucks on anyway, “You smile more when you’re with him, you seem happier.” She shoos him out the kitchen after that, telling him to “go rescue Elias from your older sister.”

Brock dashes off to where Jess has cornered Petey with a mad gleam in her eye that he recognises from when she was plotting something. Petey and Brock manage to make their escape pretty quickly after that, loaded with leftovers from his parents and a promise to call more often.

“Your family’s nice,” Petey says as they’re driving back to Brock’s house.

“You think,” Brock says beaming, he wants Petey to get along with his family and he wants his family to love Petey. It doesn’t matter that they’re not together, that they’re never going to be together but it’s Petey and Brock will take any piece of him he will get.

“You should come to Sweden sometime,” Petey says after a bit. “My parents always ask after you.”

“Maybe after COVID,” Brock responds, heart leaping into his throat.

“Yeah,” Petey says quietly. “We should do it then.” He falls silent and stays that way until they get back to Brock’s house.

They move in silence around each other, unpacking the leftovers and putting them in the fridge.

“Things with your family,” Petey starts. “Has it always been like that?”

Brock knows exactly what Petey is talking about. There were a hard few years with his parents but he made it and he doesn’t like to think about all the cousins he doesn’t, can’t talk to anymore, all the aunts and uncles who didn’t want another nephew.

"It was a grieving process for them," he replies after a minute. "They had to reconcile all they knew and wanted for me with who I was. It took a while but I had Jess and Paul in my corner before my parents ever knew so it made life a lot easier."

“Your sister said something strange to me today,” Petey says after he finishes putting away leftovers.

“Oh God,” Brock says groaning, he’s dreading this. He doesn’t trust his sister not to have spilled about his giant, all consuming crush on Petey. “What did she say?”

“She said I should be careful with you,” Petey replies slowly. “That you love fast and hard and with your whole heart. She told me-”

Brock cuts him off. “What was,” he takes a deep breath. “What was the point she was getting at?”   


Petey looks at him, really looks at him for a minute. “That you’re in love with me. That you’re in love with me and too blind to see that i’m in love with you too.”

Brock blinks at him for a minute “But-”

Petey steps towards him and grabs his hand, looking him in the eye, “I love you, Brock.”

Brock swallows, “you don’t love me the way I love you though,” his voice cracks on the end. “I look at you and I see a future with not just the shared line but with a house and a joint bank account and maybe a few kids down the line. I love you Elias but I don’t think you love me the same way.”

Petey just blinks at him before scrubbing a hand through his hair, “when your sister said you were blind to what was right in front of you I didn’t realise you were this fucking blind. I came to Minnesota for you. I would have driven here myself if you didn’t sign your contract. Do you think I’d do that for anyone else? Do you think that I don’t look at you and see a future as well, a future that isn’t just hockey?”

Petey looks at him for a minute before cupping one of Brock’s cheeks in his hand and leaning his head down to kiss him. It’s soft, and Brock kisses back. He kisses back and it feels like all the first kisses and soulmate kisses that Brock has read about in books he feels guilty about reading because they’re for girls. But it’s a kiss, not a first kiss, because Brock has dated before, but it feels like a new beginning.

“Come to Sweden with me,” Petey says. “Come to Sweden when all this is over, you can meet my family.”

Brock is a little teary, he hates how teary he gets, but he bites his lip and nods. “Sure,” he whispers. “I’ll go to Sweden with you.”

They go to bed together that night, curled up under a big fluffy blanket in Brock’s bed. Coolie and Milo sleeping at their feet.

Brock wakes up to sunshine and an empty bed the next morning and he almost thinks he’s dreamed the entire thing until he hears “Good boy Milo,” from the open window and catches sight of Petey out in the yard with the dogs. He looks out the window and lets himself imagine a future. Lets himself imagine a million playful hip checks, a thousand sunny breakfasts, a hundred gentle chirps. Brock looks out into the wide expanse of Minnesota snow and sky and sees a future for himself, a future that seems to stretch on for forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me about hockey on tumblr i'm @blackwidowrising over there too. For snippets and other fic things head to my sideblog @zaydeswisdom.


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